Bad Romance
by RunWithJacobBlack
Summary: When Jacob was little, his parents were killed. Now he's ran from his present, he's found his future in Bella ... but will his past and present ruin his future with Bella, from what it has made him? Can he move on? Can he survive it? Or will he be on the run from himself for the rest of his life? *Rated M for Strong Lemon Content*
1. Preface

Hey Guys, so this is something a little different I've been wanting to try. I think of it as my 'vanilla' version of Fifty Shades of Grey, only for a thousand times better written for, Team Jacob not Team Ed ;)

Credit to Stephenie Meyer for Jacob and Bella. Plot, ideas, writing, etc, belong to me.

Enjoy and let me know what you think! - Sky

* * *

Preface

16 years ago

Five year old Jacob was sitting outside in the corner of the old, wooden sandpit, shaded by the tree that stood overhead. He was playing with a new girl to the kindergarten. He did not know her name and he was too shy to ask, but it didn't matter either way, they were both having fun and he was making her feel, _more_ than welcome to her new school.

While making a castle for his little golden-red plastic dragon, Jake took quick glances at her as she focused upon her own neatly made sandcastle, decorated with shells. He noticed how perfect her long dark hair swept around her beautiful creamy, heart shaped face. He quickly gazed away up to the trees the instant she caught him spying.

A cool summer's day breeze blew through the trees and their leaves. A single yellowing leaf fell— indicating fall was well on the way. The leaf fell into Jake's opened hand, where he carefully exclaimed it. His mother often collected seasonal leaves and scrapbooked them.

"Jacob," Miss Kays, the kindergarten teacher called from the sliding door. "Your uncle is here to pick you up."

Having heard her though ignored Miss Kays call, Jacob placed the leaf gently into his pocket and went back to making his sandcastle with the girl. It was too early to go home, plus he wanted his mum to pick him up. She always did.

While cleaning up the class room, wearing only an orange skirt and sunny-yellow top, Miss Kays gave Jacob a moment before sighing. Flicking her thick and long red-brown hair over her shoulder, she headed outside and across the dying grass of the lawn to the sandpit.

"Come on Jacob, your uncle is waiting," she calmly stated, leaning down to his level.

"I don't want to go home until mum comes," he stated through a murmur, placing his dragon inside the castle as he added a few more towers.

"Your mum's not coming in today Jake, your uncle is here. Now come on," she took his hand and lifted him into her arms. He began screaming, trying to wriggle out of her hands as he threw his hands against her in a full blown tantrum. This wasn't the usual Jake she knew.

Jacob was normally so well-mannered and behaved. He never threw tantrums. Miss Kays just put it down to being moody or beginning to turn tired after he had skipped his nap—he had been too excited about that new girl, to calm down enough to sleep.

Scooting him out the door and locking it behind her, she went back to check on the other kids still playing outside. Jacob banged his fists upon the door, screaming out. He didn't want to go yet!

With tears streaming down his flushed, chubby cheeks, he felt a tall shadow suddenly cast over him in the usually brightly lit hallway of royal blue lockers on one side and floor to ceiling high windows on the other. Turning around and leaning back against the marble-grey coloured door, he stared up at the silhouette of a man he did not know, towering over him.

"Who a-a-are y-y-you?" he stuttered nervously, wishing Miss Kays had stayed with him to see him off like she normally did.

The man suddenly leaned down to Jacob's level and offered his hand with a kind smile placed over his mouth. His head was shaven, though a very short prickle of lightly coloured hair was growing back. His eye brows and mow were thick over his eyes and upper lip. His board shoulders wore a dark looking tux, forcing his pale skin to look white against the black.

"Jacob, I'm your uncle Simon. You don't remember me, do you?" he gave a small crooked smile that disappeared the second it had appeared. "I guess I can't blame you. You haven't seen me since you were two. You've grown my boy."

"Where's mum?" he murmured, glancing from one side to the room to the other. He didn't care whoever this guy was. He just wanted his mother, as he felt unsure of himself. Even at Jacob's young age, he felt something was … off.

Simon sighed and stood to his feet, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck where a white shirt appeared over the dark suit. He wasn't sure what to say or how to answer the young boy.

"Jacob," he began, catching his attention from the hallway. "Your mother was in an accident. Your father is with her right now. They asked for me to pick you up."

Young Jacob's eyes swelled the instant he heard. He ran into his uncle's strong, outstretched arms that lightly came around him as he leaned back down to Jacob's level.

"I want mummy!" he cried as Simon lightly patted him on the back.

"Shh it's okay Jake. I'll take you to her," he promised, picking him up. Taking him outside to his black van, Simon set Jacob down and opened the door, allowing him to climb inside and buckle himself up in the passenger seat.

Climbing into the driver's seat, Simon started the engine with a low, protesting growl from the engine and hit the highway as Jacob wiped his tears away—he was strong boy, like his father had brought him up to be, but he wasn't the type not to show his feelings either.

"Is mum going to be okay?" he whimpered, glancing up to his uncle.

"The doctors say so Jacob," he murmured, though the smile the boy had seen a few moments ago had now disappeared, all kindness had also gone out of his uncle's tone. Simon's features appeared to be hard set in the light of day. His jaw was square and very, defined.

Jacob's stomach tightened for some reason. He still didn't feel … right.

Glancing around the passenger seat, Jacob saw the mess that was on and around the backseat— old beer bottles and cans littered the floor and grey, material seating, along with cigarette butts, old plastic bags, rope and chains, plus a black backpack with something shiny sticking out of it. An old stained jumper sat on the seating, under it, something black reflected in the sun that now appeared from behind a cloud.

With a jolt of a hole in the road, the jumper fell to the floor to show a gun. Jacob thought nothing of it though, as he knew his father also owned a gun, but he had been told repeatedly over the short years of his life, it was for protection only and to never, ever play with it.

But then, Jacob's stomach suddenly churned with seeing blood thickly coating what he knew was his mother's white scarf, sitting on the floor among the litter. The very scarf he and his grandmother had picked out together for his mother's birthday, a year before his grandmother had died. What made him know it was his mother's scarf though was the mauve stain of paint in the corner, where she had splashed paint on it while doing arts and crafts with him one day.

Oddly enough, even after seeing what he had, Jacob stayed calm. He knew this man was not his uncle at all. He had had that feeling from the moment they had met, but was unsure what to think. Jake didn't have any family nearby, only overseas, where they had moved, but he now knew what he had to do.

Having never been able to buckle up his belt, he had been holding the whole time, silently he let it go back into its hook and effortlessly slid open the van's door.

"What the hell—?!" Simon swore as he saw the door come open. His gaze frantically went from the road as he tried to continue driving, to the door again, and then to Jacob, as he stared down at the rapidly moving road passing him. Simon began to pick up speed, in hope of discouraging the boy.

Jacob began to cry; scared of what he knew he had to do. Glancing to the scarf just behind the seat, somehow, it gave him the strength and, affirmed to Jacob, what he must now do.

"Don't you dare you little shit!" Simon warned, slamming his foot down on the peddle, forcing the van to go faster while reaching for Jacob's arm as he leaped from the speeding vehicle...


	2. Chapter One: Refusal

Bad

Romance

**Chapter One: **Refusal

With the lights turned out, the only light source now appeared from the moon, casting its shadow over Jacob as he lay on his side, sleeping soundly. The window was cracked open, allowing a cool summer breeze to seep inside and cause the lace-like curtain to dance in a silent grace.

Slowly her fingers swept over his warm, russet skin, over his defined, toned abs and teased the small, dark line of course hair below his navel. With her other hand she cupped his bulge tightly in her palm and gave a little squeeze.

"No, I'm not!" Jacob snapped with a snarl, suddenly awake. He threw her hands from around his waist. The coldness of her fingers seemed to have imprinted into the nerves of his skin.

Quickly he threw himself out of bed and grabbed up his clothes, forcing his shirt over his head and jeans on, he pulled on his boots and grabbed his bag. Heading over to his draw, he filled the bag with what little he had to call, his possessions.

"What are you doing?" she asked faintly, watching his figure move in the casting light of the moon, while sitting up in the middle of her bed. This wasn't the first time she had seen him act this way.

"I've had enough!" he muttered, slowly letting out a breath he had been holding. Suddenly he stopped, dropped his bag to the grey carpeted floor and leaned his shoulders back against the wall. He started up at the cream ceiling, his chest rising and falling at a fast pace as his breath silently panting with rage, while forcing back the tears he would _never_ allow her to see.

"So have a break," she whispered faint a murmur while looking harmless and fragile as a kitten—this was her trick … that usually worked. She was the one, who made him appear and feel to be the one who hurt her.

His head turned to see her watching him, through glassy eyes while nipping down on her milky skinned finger. A sheet was pulled up to cover her breasts, her wavy chocolate hair hung over her shoulders. Not a hair was out of place. She looked perfect—but she wasn't_ that_ concerned.

He shook his head with newly found anger. She was just using him, for all these years she had, for her own selfish pleasure. He had known it too, only he wished to look the other way, to act as though he was blind, oblivious, to the realistic fact. Until he could no longer look the other way … now, he regretted a quarter of his life.

"You don't get it, do you?!" he breathed, his voice snapping at the end. His eyes glared into hers.

She thought he was the same little boy he had been so long ago—venerable, weak … and broken. But that child had now grown. He was stronger now, stronger than he knew. But he was still venerable and … unhealed.

"I see through it all Miranda! You don't love me … like I love you," his voice cracked as he dragged his teeth over his lower lip. "You just use me as your sex toy, wash me over with your _act_, and throw me away until you want me again! I've had it! I am done and I am out of here!" he exclaimed, slamming his hand down against the brick wall he was leaning against. A flash of heat shot up his hand, but he ignored it, not even bothering to wince at the sensation.

Within that second, before he could even think to move, she hopped out of bed and nailed him to the wall with the force of her naked body pressed against his. His breath shuddered with weakness, as his mind and body responded. Without his permission his lips moulded to hers in small pants and fast paced kisses. She kissed him deep, cupping his cheeks as her tongue entered his mouth with a yearning permission.

She forced a moan out of him when she pressed against his body little more. Her legs spread just an inch to rub against the hardness that was pressing against her, through the material of denim his jeans. He groaned and arched his back in an instinctual response. The zipper of his jeans was straining to hold him in.

She always had this way with him, she was his weakness—his drug— he seemed to never be able to throw away. Her lips and mouth went down his chin, and over his smooth skinned neck, her hands resting on his broad, powerful shoulders as he stared up at the ceiling. His breath was erratic with want and need. His jeans suddenly felt even tighter as her lips formed around his Adam Apple.

"Miranda," he breathed, panting quick and light. His chest was rising and falling like waves of the ocean. Glancing down to her, she lifted his shirt from his jeans, before her lips wrapped around sucked on his perfectly formed peck.

He shuddered and moaned, realising exactly what she was doing, but a part of his brain did not want her to stop until she was once again done with him. She always did this when he threatened to leave, and sadly, it had _always _worked.

Throbbingly hard against his zipper, he groaned and clawed the smoothly painted mauve wall with the tips of his fingers and palms of his hands. She always drove him crazy when he least wanted it. That was her thing; it was what she did, why he had stayed for long as he had. She was like the sugar pill to any man she had been with, only she had an extra coat of sugar—she knew how to hook them for life. She was on a constant beck and call, something Jacob knew and somehow, accepted.

Feeling her teeth bite down on his peck, with her hands resting on his abs, a loud whimpering groan escaped his throat as he arched against her. He wished so much he could beg to her out loud to take her with a driving force, but at the same time, there was a war going on inside Jake's head.

He was trying so hard to find the strength to say no, to say he was going and to tell her, she would _never_ see him again. But he was losing, his willpower was going; second by second he lost a little more as his body rocked into her own, in desperate need.

As she reached for his jeans, a groan of relief came out, but with the loss of her touch, he gained back some will but some part of his brain fought back. _Just one touch_, he thought, grimacing hard with a loud groan as the zipper was released against him and his jeans dropped to the floor.

_And I'll be fine for the rest of my life… _he silently affirmed, hoping to hell he was right. He had to be. She was messing with his head … always … even when she didn't _want_ him.

"Ah!" he cried out when she took him into her hand and brushed him against her warm wetness, almost coming there and then. His eyes opened. They were blurred by what he could only think was tears of pain, or sweat that now coated his body. His white shirt was glued to his richly coloured skin.

He wiped his eyes quick, to watch her slowly guide herself over him. Her hands were on his, stopping their use as she brushed and coated his length.

Jacob was shaking, his stomach tightening more and more, as he throbbed harder against her, more than he had ever remembered doing so. He was too used to her rules to not cum without a command. He had too much control over himself—the rules were too automatically set in his brain—he knew how to hold himself off, to the point he no longer remembered how to just let go.

"Please," he finally begged out loud.

Miranda's eyes met his, hearing his voice break for the first time. She had never been this hard on him, just like she hadn't ever seen such determination in his eyes to leave. Her beautiful blue liquid eyes shone brightly in the light of the moon. Jacob's face was almost hidden in shadow. If it wasn't for the sweat that gleamed off his skin, he would have been almost hidden.

"Will you leave?" she murmured through her perfect plump lips, waiting for an instant answer.

Jake grimaced hard, though did not answer. A part of his brain came awake after hearing the question, the very part that he had been overrun.

Breathing deep, his eyes shut tight as he forced himself to push her onto her petit arse on the bed, where he threw her clothes over her. The sight of her naked, suddenly gave him the feeling of disgust. She had thought it was a game he was playing until she heard his words.

"Yes," he finally whispered, regretting the words as he spoke them—but there was no going back now. "Yeah, I will leave," he defined. Grabbing his jeans while still aching, somehow he pulled them on and grabbed his duffle bag from the floor and threw it over his shoulder. He kicked her clothes lying all over the floor, out of his way.

"Where are you going?" she shouted.

"Anywhere, away from you!" he replied, yelling up the stairs, as he got to the front door. The whole downstairs was painted a modern white.

This was it. He was finally doing it. He bit down on his lower lip, reaching for the golden nob.

"You'll regret this Jacob!" she growled, her voice abruptly turning muffled. He heard her fall over upstairs, probably from tripping over all her show girl clothes.

"No I won't!" he shouted. "You can go back to your pimps, 'cause ain't one of them!" he confirmed, yanking open the door and jamming it shut behind him as he headed outside in the clear, starry night and over to the little red rabbit he called his own, where he opened the door and threw in his bag. He groaned as he sat in the driver's seat and whimpered.

Trying his best not to focus on the pain, he spun the car around the passive driveway and took off before Miranda could get a chance to come out and see him off. It may have been just enough to make him stop. Getting to the car had been the furthest he had ever reached, before she wound him back like a puppy on a string—that was just how he felt, too.

Driving down the road as quickly as he could, placing as much distance between he and Miranda before his brain changed his mind and forced him to turn around and head back the other way.

He took in deep breaths, calming himself, just trying to get her out of his head along with the rage he felt, not only for her but himself, too. He had been putting up with her ways for years.

Entering the lights of Seattle, he spotted a club and pulled in, parking in the shadow of the streetlight by the road, hoping they had some kind of accommodation. Jacob hadn't ever owned his own place. He had always relied on Miranda.

Sitting in the car, with his elbow resting against the window, and his hand set against his jaw, he stared up at the moon, shining down upon him, lighting his face within the darkness of the car. There wasn't a cloud in sight, but his mind was blank, his chest heavy. _Whenever you feel alone, look at the moon Jacob, and then you'll know, we're not that far apart, because we're both looking at it, _he recalled something that had been said, _a long_ time ago.

"If only it were true, now," he mouthed silently, shaking his head.

He had never been out on his own before. Jake had only ever worked in another club, waiting and serving people, cooking and dancing with Miranda—as she owned it—to earn what little money he had, but he wasn't going to be going back there again. No, he wasn't going to take any steps back now, he had taken ten forward.

He felt a strange pull in his heart. He felt empty without Miranda to love, even if what she in return, called love, wasn't so. A human touch was better than nothing.

Even from the far end of the parking lot, he could hear the music blurring from inside. The car quickly began to turn stuffy in the unusually, warm summer night. Rolling down the window, he could hear someone crying.

Across the car-park, from the shade inside the car, in the light of the streetlamps on the footpath leading into the club, Jacob could see a tall guy quickly stride off with a tensed body, leaving a girl crying hysterically as she leaned against a white-painted brick wall.

She was dressed in a black and silver dress, which ended below her knees. Her eyes had been done up with black eye-shadow and mascara, but with tears now streaming, the makeup began to run valleys down her face.

She slowly slid down the wall to a sitting position, where she wrapped her arms around her knees. People walking into the club just ignored her. They didn't even take a second to ask if she was okay.

She was crying hysterically, with her head in her hands, resting her head against her knees. Jacob wondered what had happened—was she hurt? High? Drunk? All options were a possibility at a club.

Getting out of the car, Jake searched the parking lot to make sure the guy was nowhere to be seen, before he crossed the car park and went over to her with his hands in the pockets of his washing out old jeans. At least his shirt had dried some.

As he approached, he noticed she was beginning to calm down, but there was something else wrong. Her long, golden brown hair was drenched, wet.

"Hey, are you okay?" he whispered softly, not exactly used to talking to woman other than Miranda—it was just another one of her rules.

Hearing his voice, she thought she recognised it from somewhere. There was something comfortingly, familiar about him. She felt safe within his present, as stupid as it sounded. She wiped her mascara coated cheeks of the tears she had shed.

"I'm okay," she croaked, nodding.

Jake blinked, wondering if what he had just seen was a show, a cry for attention. When he seen her glassy-army-green eyes, he felt like he too, had met her before. Though, he didn't speak a word of his thoughts. He forced himself to sit beside her, spite the pain.

"What's your name?" he murmured huskily, glancing to her from starting up at the sky. A cool, refreshing breeze now blew. Jacob's cropped black hair suddenly felt wet.

"Bella," she answered through a murmur. Once again, she allowed her head rest back against the wall behind her. Strands of hair covered some of her face, plastered to her skin by the mess the makeup had caused, along with what he guessed was sweat.

"Jacob," he whispered after a moment, when she didn't ask his name, though he highly doubted she could careless who he was. In her eyes, he knew, he probably just looked like some creep trying to hook up with her.

Jake found the little he had calmed himself down, was stirring back up deep within him. He took in deep, silent breaths, trying to stop it. He thought he had groaned silently, but when he gazed to Bella again, she was closely watching him. His expression was obviously showing too much.

Maybe it was the three drinks she had had talking or maybe she was just looking for comfort, but suddenly Bella did something she normally would not and it suddenly made Jake very wary. She leaned into his side and kissed his neck, not the way Miranda would with force and roughness but sweet and softly, with a touch that felt familiar, but the familiarity of it was deep, deep down. He hadn't been touched like this before, not that he could remember.

When she pulled away, he was unsure. Was she, too, like Miranda? Was she using him, too? Or just a little drunk? Whatever it was had aroused within her too, for he saw nothing but lust, now shining through her sparkling green eye eyes. She had not helped, with what he was trying to withhold.

He groaned and stood as she stood with him. He _had_ to get out of there, before he did do something stupid.

"I-I have to go," he stuttered, fighting the urge to cup the front of his jeans. "Sorry," he whispered, heading inside in hope of getting his room, soon as possible.

Inside the music blared through his ears and body. He could feel the beat strumming through his bones and muscles like the speakers were placed against his body. He could feel the beat under his the soles of his feet. Coloured lights of green, pink, yellow and blue flickered around the room as crowds of people danced to the wild music.

Jacob pushed through and past the grooving bodies leading up to the bar, where he hoped the bar -tender could give him a room first off. Getting up to the bar, he spotted a line of stairs heading upstairs, where one teenage girl ran up them with her hand gripping who was clearly her boyfriend's hand.

Jake shook his head in disapproval. She had to be nothing over fifteen and wore a tight pink top that showed her stomach, along with a black leather mini skirt, which left nothing to the imagination.

He handed over a hundred as the woman bar-tender was serving what looked like a cop off duty. His uniform was untucked from his trousers, showing some of his beer-belly and back. Jake was thankful the trousers were no lower than they already were.

"What can I get ya?" she asked, scooting over in front of him. Evidently, she was a smoker. He could smell the rotten scent on her breath as she spoke. Thick indented lines marked around her lips and the corners of her eyes. Her skin was an odd colour of faded grey. Her hair was to the length of her shoulders and had turned grey-silver, long ago.

"A room, thanks," Jacob urged, glancing over to the door, spying Bell in the heading in, searching for someone. He hoped not for her. She must have been to the bathroom, as now there wasn't a hint of makeup over her face.

The woman pushed the keys to him from across the bar-table and took his money. "It's a hundred a night, head upstairs" she added, cocking her head to the side as he snapped up the keys into his fingers.

"No problem."

Mounting the steps, he quickly strode up them, just as Bella spotted his white shirt standing out from the crowd of bodies. She called out his name but he ignored her, knowing that if he stopped to see her, he would do something, very stupid and it'd make him, just like _her_.

Once upstairs, he looked down to the key to see the number of his room. Along a line shaped hall, coated with red carpet and red brick-walls, he found his room, one-three-nine and went to unlock the door, when he heard her voice.

"Jacob?"

His body froze stiff and his breath held. Jake bit down hard on his lower lip, the force of his teeth broke into his skin, cutting into his lower lip. He tasted blood, as it trickled into his mouth. He licked his lip, but did not move nor speak.


	3. Chapter Two: Weakness

Chapter Two: Weakness

"Go away," Jacob thickly breathed the murmur of words, almost chocking on them as they were spoken. His frame had turned rigid and tense within the same second he had heard her voice speak his name.

Resting his head against the hard wooden door of his room, his eyes shut tight, as his body began to heat. Sweat glistened over the crease of his forehead, before it trickled down over his jawline.

His cheeks were being highlighted with a deep red.

Why was it so hard just to open the door and slam it shut behind him?! He knew that's all he needed to do, but something in his mind made it so hard to act on. He knew it was the feeling of lust that was stopping him, but he didn't want to admit it.

Bella was worried about him, about a stranger, which had showed her some kind of sympathy and she wasn't sure why—it wasn't like he was a friend. He just that … a stranger … Bella wasn't used to strangers coming up to her to see if she was okay or not, and in this modern day world, she couldn't blame them with how many people were on drugs and just suddenly went off at a single, innocently spoken word.

She was more than used to being ignored by everyone, including her own family. Renee was too busy with her new husband down south and Charlie was often either too busy with work or too tired to bother.

Bella wasn't exactly sure why she had searched for Jake after he had taken off so … abruptly. There had been just something … magnetic and comforting about him. He felt safe and made her feel something she had never felt before whenever she touched a man—right. It just felt right when her body had urged her to press her plump-model-like lips to the burning, clammy though smooth skin of his neck. Or maybe it was just the three drinks, _still_, talking.

"Jacob, what's wrong?" she murmured, rushing over to him. Jake felt her place one hand on his shoulder and the other on his stomach as he looked like he was about to fall or faint. His knees buckled but he had caught himself before he fell like a fool to his knees. He felt lighter weight under her touch than he looked from a short distance.

"This," he growled, gripping her gentle, cool skinned hand from his shirt covering his stomach to the bludge in his jeans before releasing her hand, realising what he had done to someone who was just trying to care.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath shaky before touching the palm of his hand to his head where it pounded like someone had hit him hard over the head with a frying pan. He hadn't eaten enough in the past twenty-four-hours. "I hadn't meant to do that, Bella."

He was just so used to being with Miranda, teasing her and allowing her to tease him. She had always made him show her what was wrong with him. She made him make her touch him. It was just her way. Always so, dominant and demanding, it was like she ruled him … owned him, even.

Without even knowing it, Jacob had flicked a small switch inside Bella as their darkening gaze's held the intensely of lust and desire. The size of his package seemed to have imprinted its feel to the nerves of her hand—she felt like her palm was still _there. _A warm tightness in her stomach had spasmed in pleasure at the feel of him. If he hadn't let her hand go, she would have given him a slight squeeze without a second of thought about it.

Jake felt the atmosphere shift between them. When he wrapped his arm tight around Bella's shoulders, pulling her into his defined body, against his yearning mouth, she let out a small gasp of shock. His gentle lips melted into hers, smooth as butter as he kissed her deeply. Thankful the small hall of doors, were empty apart from the two of them, he gripped the door knob and twisted it with the keys jingling inside the lock until finally the door came open behind them.

Stumbling inside, over the rugged royal red carpet, Jacob kicked the door to a slamming close with the black boot of his foot. The room was neat and cleaner than any club normally would be. All that registered in Jake's head, was the fact the room had a bed. None of the other items mattered to him for now.

Leaning back up against the structure of the door, Jacob pinned Bella there with her legs between his own. He threw his damp shirt from over his head where it landed somewhere on the floor with a small sound of a bump.

Unusually, there was no hint of music thrumming up the floors into the room from downstairs. No vibration under their feet from the speakers being turned up too loud. Not even the sound of traffic passing hit the room. The only sound that could be heard was their rapid breaths being exhaled through their noses while feverishly making out.

Jacob's mouth parted Bella's lips as his tongue led its way into her mouth. She groaned through pants, digging her fingers into Jacob's bare shoulders as he pressed further into her frame. With a quick flick of his fingers, her dress fell to the floor into a neat crumble around her feet, leaving only her bra at his disposal. He grinned not seeing a hint of fabric for underwear covering raw her flesh.

Pulling away, with his hands around her waist, his mouth trailed down her neck to the sweet spot between her neck and shoulder, where his teeth grazed her silky cream skin while lightly sucking with heated passion. She gasped and whimpered lightly.

Through the denim of his jeans the hardness of his cock pressed against her flat stomach, sending a pleasuring shiver down her spine. Her stomach tightened with warmth of a moan. She clutched his shoulders, leaving small marks in his skin as she tried to keep herself on the stems of her high-heels.

"Jacob!" she gasped out loud, almost falling into his supporting arm around her waist as he slipped a finger into her and stroked her folds with an irritatingly slow pace. A smirk of confidence formed over his lips, with his free hand reaching up, he flicked the hook on her silver-and-black bra and it too, fell to the floor in the same order the dress had.

Leaning down, he took her whole breast into his mouth with a moan into her skin, where Jake once again felt her almost fall after a breathless gasp. His tongue swirled around her pink budded nipple as he softly nipped it.

Feeling her wetness coating his finger, he could tell he was doing a good job for his first time being unguided. He was enjoying it, taking his time to explore everything he hadn't been able to with Miranda, out of his own feelings and instincts before.

It was driving him nuts with how easy to seduce she was. Miranda was so hard, so self-containing and composed. She was used to it all, nothing was new to her. Nothing made her gasp or cry out unless it was unsuspected. Jacob loved nothing more than to make Bella cry out, shiver and tremble in pleasure with his arms around her; it gave him self-confidence and pleasure to know he was bringing this out in her, making her hot and wet, just for him, and not because she was telling him what to do.

He pulsed and throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. As though she had read his mind, Bella's hands slipped down from his shoulders to the waist of his jeans where her fingers grabbing the tip of the zipper and pulled it achingly slow down to its base, before flicking the button undone, from where he sprung free with a loud groan of relief. He heard Bella giggle in response, causing him to smirk with his eyes closed.

Lifting his head, with his eyes opening, he met her glance that mirrored his own—dark and lustful, full of want and desire. She held his gaze as her hand ran down along his painfully hard length. His skin was smooth and hot against her cool hands. Her touch alone seemed to make him throb all the more. He whimpered out of the need for release, pulsing hard in the palm of her hand. If she just said it, he'd cum. But that little switch in his head was still yet to go off … thanks to _her._

With the bed behind them, she pushed him in the chest where he fell back and landed on the mattress with a bounce. Grinning up at her, his eyes were sparkling with anticipation.

Jacob scooted up the single bed to where the pillow sat behind his shoulder-blades as he half laid, half sat up in the bed, leaning back on his elbows. Through the tall window beside the bed, opposite to the door, bright city lights cast a dull light into the room, enough to show the gleamed of sweat covering Jacob's skin.

The room was stifling hot, airless, but neither Jake nor Bella cared. They were too caught up in one and other to even think much about breathing

On her hands and knees, Bella crawled over him with a wicked grin planted over her mouth. Leaning her bottom half down, her wetness touched his length with the slightest touch, forcing a painful groan from his throat as his hands fisted the sheets with a tug. She had no idea the affect she had on him.

In the dull city lights shimmering through the window, where his skin basically glowed with the sheen of sweat, she spotted something shimmer over his hip, stretching out over the muscle of his stomach, where his abs rose from his stomach. The marks appeared like tiger stripes. One stretched down into the short fuss of dark hair below his navel. Her face fell as her fingers brushed over the silvery lines. The scars were cooler compared to the rest of his stifling body.

Jake didn't even feel her touch, only the slightest tingling sensation that randomly happened from one time to another.

"What are you … ?" he paused, glancing down at her finger and looked away, searching the room for something to put his mind elsewhere. He knew her next question, and he wanted to void it at all costs. For the first time he noticed the walls were painted a dull cream. Apart from the stained wooden bedside table and an old, green and red checked, two-seater couch facing an old TV on the side of the window, they were the only pieces of furniture in the room. It was obvious the TV was old, as it wasn't a flat-screen. Jake wondered if it even worked.

He searched the ceiling, hoping for some kind of bare patch of paint that had a funny shape to it, only to find what would have been a black ceiling fan, if it wasn't for the inch-thick dust coating blades, turning it to a grey colour instead. The blades ached to move, but didn't succeed.

"Where have you come from?" Bella whispered, so lightly it was barely able to be heard, even with them both only being a foot or two apart. She hadn't meant to say it. It had just come out. It was an odd question to ask, but pretty much summed up any life-long story which usually was the cause to all scars—emotional and physical.

"Out of town," Jacob smirked smugly and glanced away, pretending he didn't know what she was talking about—anything was better than explaining where _that_ scar had come from. He didn't want anyone to know that story. It was bad enough Miranda did.

That was obvious. Bella rolled her eyes and tried to see what Jacob was finding so interesting.

It was the one thing that Jacob never wanted to speak of or think about, especially before getting off with someone. It was the only thing that could be mentioned and cause a 'melt' down for him.

"But—" he cut her off and shut her up midsentence by roughly taking her arms and tossing her over onto her back where he kissed her deeply. Bella groaned into the muscles of Jacob's neck, licking his sweated skin.

Her arm wrapped around his powerful shoulder-blades of his defined back. He must have worked out or something—he was too powerful and strong for the lightness of his body. Jacob was more lean than buff. He didn't weight enough for his height that had to be around five-eleven to six feet tall. What made Bella guess his height was the fact he was the length of the entire bed as he sprawled out over her, careful not to put too much of his weight against her, only enough to pin her into the mattress in a delicious manner of the heat between their bodies.

Her spare hand rested against his hip, where her thumb brushed against the coldness of the scar as his back ached against her own, rubbing against her wetness, forcing a whimper out of her mouth as he swallowed it whole.

Her fingers dragged into the skin of his back, leaving rising red marks as he pumped into her hard and fast. She whimpered into his shoulder, feeling just how big and thick Jacob really was. He felt bigger than he had looked. His hands were at her hips, lifting them the slightest bit so her back was ached against him. His breath was uneven and short as he panted hard in the airless room.

"Jacob!" she cried as her stomach twisted in warmth and spasms of bliss. If there was a sudden knock at the door, full of complaints of their loudness, Jacob wouldn't have been surprised. The springs of the bed squeaked as he felt her inner muscles clamped down around him, coating his length with her warm juices. But it wasn't enough. He needed the permission. He couldn't just let go.

Moving his mouth to the skin of her neck, he nipped at her ear and felt her come again with a shudder.

"Say it Bella," he murmured painfully, his voice was cracked into that of a pure beg without being too obvious.

Reaching down between them, she cupped his sack, sending a wave of heat throughout the insides of his stomach. She rubbed and gripped each of them, lightly then harshly, wanting to tease him some more, but she had no idea how much he really needed it.

Shuddering with feeling her tongue run the length of his neck, his flesh rose in goose bumps as his muscles tensed in anticipation. Like he had, she nipped the tip of his ear lobe and murmured her request deep and huskily, though almost as silent as the breeze. "Cum Jake, cum hard," she cooed, gripping his sack hard in the palm of her hand as she spoke in a voice she knew would force him over the edge again and again. He came with a loud groan, spilling his load as his breath held, feeling his entire body turn rigid and tensed.

Resting his head against her shoulder, panting hard while catching his breath, he smiled weakly as he lifted himself up just enough to look into her green eyes. Her hair was drenched with sweat, sticking to the skin of her highlighted flushed face. She looked beautiful under him.

He knew she had done him a favour, more than herself. "Thank you," he whispered, brushing his hand down the side of her clammy cheek. He loved her eyes, how they sparked in the dim light. It was like there were stars flickering, a cheery light inside them.

"Welcome," Bella smiled back, resting her hand on his chest, where she could feel his heart pounding under her palm. Its pace matched that of her own, galloping its way under her rib cage as she too, caught her own breath. She hadn't ever met a guy who was quiet so … thoughtful and considerate as Jacob. It was a refreshing change.

Jake winced as he moved to lay down on the sheets beside her, lying against the cool wall to give Bella some space on the narrow, single bed. Every muscle in Jacob's body ached from being so tensed up, but it had been worth it. _Better than being blue_, he thought, mentally rolling his eyes as they closed.

The dim light shone on Jacob's pink, sweat coated skin as he somehow found sleep in the stifling room. Lying on her side facing Jake, Bella smiled to herself as she watched him sleep, taking in deep breaths every few seconds. He looked so innocent in his sleep. It was hard to believe he had been capable of what they had just done looking at him now, but then she sighed and shook her head. She couldn't think that way. It had been a one night stand and that's all she'd probably ever know of Jacob, just like the countless number of other guys she had been with.

Glancing at the scars over his hip and stomach, she couldn't help but wonder what had caused them and what had been so bad about it for Jacob to skip her question completely.

Slowly, she slipped under the roughness of the cheap sheets. The sound of a cricket singing outside had made it relaxingly easy to fall into a deep sleep.

"Leave me alone!" Jacob called out in his sleep. He tossed and turned in the now empty bed, the sheets had been pulled up through the night and now half lay on the floor. The pillow too, had fallen to the floor from Jake's wild tossing.

His arm was wrapped around his stomach, clutching his hip tightly as though it hurt. Tears coated his red face along with sweat of the heated room and fear. The sun now shone through the window as the middle of the day approached.

From behind his lids, flashes flicked before his eyes. These were the worst nightmares, as they contained so much, not a single day of his life had hurt as much as the mix of days and moments these nightmares contained. They were all grey, but they all had meaning to Jake.

_Screaming out as a knife cut across his stomach … Looking up to the one person, who had dared to take him on, for all those years … Hearing the police report on the news of both his parents being dead … Running from the van … Seeing the police take off before they saw him, having help so close and yet so far away …_

He gasped awake, flinging himself in an upright position as he panted hard while sitting in the middle of the bed. Searching around himself, Jacob quickly came to realise he had had been dreaming again. He was safe, for now and thankfully Bella had gone before she had seen him at his weakest.

Lying back against the hard mattress of the bed, through tear blurred eyes Jacob stared up at the ceiling fan and let the tears roll down in rivers over his cheeks. For just twenty-one, he had a painful life which was his father's entire fault. If it wasn't for him, Jake would probably be safe and his mother still alive. He also knew he wouldn't be scared wherever he went. He wouldn't be scared to live his life how he knew he should.

Turning onto his side, he punched the mattress hard in frustration. His hand tingled with a light pain. He hadn't asked for this life! So why did he have it?!

Through seething breaths, he recognised a panic attack coming on as his heart picked up into a turning, rapid pace. Slowly, he calmed himself down by getting up and opening the window. A cool breeze entered the room, much to his relief.

Picking up the sheets from the floor, he grabbed the pillow and threw it up on the bed. A small piece of paper fell from the pillow, landing at his feet. Bending over, he picked it up, seeing it was a mobile number in neat, fancy writing. Bella had written it. Her name was written below the number.

Going over to his jeans by the door where he had left them, he shoved the number into the back pocket and hauled the jeans up and his shirt overhead. Finding the car keys in the front pocket, he climbed down the stairs to a now quiet club. The music was softer. The only lights that flickered and flashed were the ones around the stage, where a country music band played.

Jake groaned and rolled his eyes. He hated country music! With its slow boring or sad and repeating beats, bad guitar playing and lack of more than three words to an entire song, it wasn't what Jacob called music. As he crossed the dance floor, he noticed there had to be only about ten people filling the place, over the bar, stage and floor.

Pushing heavy club door open, the sun hit Jacob's eyes with a stinging wince, along with the blistering heat kissing his skin. Walking out, the car park was empty of people. Only six cars remained parked in the entire lot, including his own, parked on the far end. Trees around the club blew and swayed in the wind. Their leaves made a rustling as it suddenly picked up. A cloud came over the sun and cast a dark shadow over the car park.

Looking around, Jacob half expected to see Bella like he had the night before, by the club door sobbing … and then a wave of guilt hit him hard. Clutching the scorching door hand of his car, it went unnoticed as its heat burned into his skin.

He had done to Bella, what Miranda had always done to him. He felt low, swallow, a man- whore even. He was no better than _her._ How could he be, when he had done that to Bella?! She was a needy stranger, weak from her break up. Of course she'd sleep with him! Anything for comfort!

Once more, he bit down on his lower lip until the skin broke and blood seeped from the tiny cut. Jacob didn't wince. He believed he deserved the pain, for what he had done to Bella. The same thought kept lulling around in his head—_I'm no better than her._

Pulling the car door open, he grabbed his duffle bag and threw it over his shoulder, slamming the door behind him as he stalked inside as quickly as he could manage without breaking out into a panicking run.

Getting upstairs, he jiggled the keys in the tight lock of the silver door knob and pushed open the door the second he heard the lock release. Throwing the duffle bag onto the bed with a bounce, he could feel a weight coming down on his chest. He needed a cold shower.

Now in the day light, it was easier to see the couch and the rest of the room, which now didn't look so clean. The couch was still the red and green checked pattern Jake had noted upon last night, only now he saw how worn out and filthy it was. There were black marks all over it, the kind of marks you'd see on the road and footpath of the streets—blacken chewing gum. In places, the fabric was worn away to its grey-white seams. He didn't dare think about what had worn the material away, nor what had made the white stains over the cushions.

On the same wall the couch was placed up against, was a frame around the doorway, showing the whole bathroom from the main room. It only consisted of a sink, small cupboard under the sink, shower around the corner and a toilet beside the shower. The sink was opposite to the doorway. The whole room was a sickly, grey-cream colour—typical hotel.

Striding over to the cupboard, Jake quickly found all he needed: soap and a towel that was the very same colour as the carpet outside the bathroom. Pulling them out, he hung towel over the rack. Pulling his clothes off, he left them lying in a clump on the grey tiled floor. Reaching in, he turned on the cold water and got in.

The water pattered down onto the russet skin of his rippled back and defined pecks, trickling down his stomach, one bead at a time. Groaning, he leaned back against the chilly shower wall sighed. Guilt was clutching his chest as he tried to shake it, while tempting to convince himself that Bella had wanted it too—but of course she would! That's when you were most needy of comfort or a distraction of any kind! It didn't seem to matter what he told himself or tried to convince himself … it didn't work.

Grabbing the soap, he lathered his hands up and ran them over his muscles. He felt dirty … no filthy, filthy as that couch out there with its black patches of old chewed up gum, but the cold water felt like an almighty relief after being so hot, and clammy. It felt as though his skin could now breathe with the layer of sweat being rinsed away.

But Jake still felt dirty. He felt worn and used. On many levels, he now realised just how much—weirdly— he and that couch had in common. If it was a dog he had just found on the street, he would have washed it to spare it of that feeling, and if couches had feelings, he'd do the same for it, too.

Rubbing the soap over his stomach, Jake didn't dare to glance down to his scar that tingled under the soapy touch and cold water. He had enough to contend with in his mind ... and life. Shaking his head, finally the heaviness of the panic attack was lifting from his chest, but not the guilt. That wouldn't lift until he saw for himself, that Bella was, really, okay.

Rinsing the suds off, he stepped out of the shower and took the towel from the rack, drying off as he went back out into the other room. Getting his duffle bag, after unzipping it, he turned it upside down and emptied its contents out onto the bed.

With a clatter, a pair of silver handcuffs landed on the top of the large pile of clothes. Jacob groaned. His eyes rolled at the sight of them, along with the memories of them being used on him throughout the years he had been with Miranda, flashed before his eyes. They were the last thing he wanted to see, but at least they had provided him with some kind of distraction.

Getting a clean pair of washed-out grey jeans, Jacob pulled them on along with a simple v necked, grey tank-top. Repacking his bag, he took the cuffs into his hand and slipped them into his back pocket. Leaving the bag of clothes on his bed, he did up the laces of his boot and headed out the door.

The club was getting louder now as night began to slip in. On the way down the spiral of stairs, he noticed there was a handful more of people dancing. The music had been turned up a little more, too. The people that were dancing were more than likely college students or high-schoolers, just got out of class and now wanted to let off a little steam as their weekend started.

Going outside, Jake seen there were teenagers and people in their early to mid-twenties pulling up in the car park everywhere, usually coming with a car full of friends, getting out laughing after hearing a joke on the way to the club.

Winding his way around them, it was a little cooler now than what it had been in the earlier part of the day. Jake hoped into his car and sighed, glaring at the road as the sun set on the city. Reaching back, he pulled the cuffs out of his jean's pocket and set them on the dashboard.

Starting up his car with a protesting groan from the engine, he pulled out onto the road, heading away from the city. He didn't know why he was doing it … maybe it a weakness of the want he had to see Miranda after their first night apart in many, many months, if not years. Or maybe it was because she had made him feel the way he was, riddled with guilt of being with Bella and using her for his own selfish pleasure, because that's what she had told him he did when he went off with other women, unless it was a relationship of some kind. Maybe in the back of his mind, he thought that somehow, Miranda would reassure him, that he wasn't a bad person, like he felt.

Seeing the two-story house coming up the road, he sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Pulling in and going down the driveway, he looked around, as though he expected to notice something different about the property in the twenty-four-hours since he had left. But nothing had changed.

Pulling up outside the narrowly tall house, he clutched the cuffs in hand and jumped out of the car. The air was fresher, with a bite of coldness and the sweet scent of rain floating over its currents. Glancing back over his shoulder; Jake saw thunder clouds on the orange-pink horizon where the city began to light up as building lights flickered on, quickly moving in as the wind picked up its pace.

With one knock at the white wooden door, Jake went to knock once more, when it slowly swung open. Lifting his head, he met Miranda's liquid blue eyes, but there was no shock in her body language. She knew he'd be back sooner or later, she had just expected him to have showed sooner, than he had.

She was wearing an exotic blue bra and underwear. Both were far too small for her C cup breasts and size four arse. It was making Jake's mind fog with lust. Seeing Jacob, she shrugged a black leather jacket on and slipped into a tight leather skirt.

Miranda must have heard Jake's car pull up for her to answer the door like she had. Normally she was very discreet with how she was dressed, unless it was in front of someone she knew. Maybe this had been some sexy, manipulating plan of hers to seduce him back into staying with her. He wouldn't have been surprised if it was. It was just like Miranda.

"Hey," he faintly murmured, trying to keep focus on the exact reason to why he was standing before her as he felt his cock twitch. "Here, I wanted to give you these back … found them in my bag."

"Oh thanks." As per usual, she was playing her coy attitude. She took the cuffs and set them on the table inside the door like they were just any other _normal_ item that you'd find in any house. She then took something from the table into her hand.

"Here, you forgot this. Come in tonight for your last paycheque unless you've change your mind."


	4. Chapter Three: Masquerade Part 1

Chapter Three: Masquerade Part 1

With his hands in his pockets, Jacob held his head low. A hooded leather jacket covered his face and naked torso beneath its smooth, cool seams. Taking small strides up the dimly lit street, his nerves clenched while a dark silver hatchback parked by the curb. Seeing a lady and her baby exit the driver's seat, he relaxed again. Being dressed like a mugger himself, warily, she watched him for a moment as he continued on.

Reaching the club, overhead lights of neon pink and blue glowed down from the sign tilted, 'Premium Fun House.' The golden light of 'open' was still out.

Pulling the door to, its edge caught on the corner of a chalkboard sign. Glancing at it, his eyes rolled. It's fancy, neat writing was obviously Miranda's. The script was as sickly fake as she was—perfect. She made herself out to be a queen, his queen, where all must obey and treasure her, when really; she was lower than a street urchin.

'_Masquerade's final night!_' it read. A dark smirk came over Jake's mouth as he slipped inside. He had made this place what it was—one of the top strip clubs within Washington—without him, this side of her business would be closed within a month.

From the door, he could see the back wall stage done up in blue satin. Bright blue lights shifted and moved over the dark floorboards. Small fairy-lights lined the extended catwalk-like pathway and the base of the stage. More lights were wrapped around trees planted in terracotta pots. At the end of the catwalk, was a pole. Small round tables with single or double chairs were placed over the room. A single white cloth dangled over the edges of the tables.

Stepping further inside, looking up to the ceiling was like seeing the insides of any mechanical device. Up there, was where the lights and ropes could come down and swivel over the room. In his eight years of working here, he never showed up any earlier than ten minutes before the show. He never helped with the setup of the stage. Only with the costumes: hooking and unhooking bras, feathers tops, bunny ears and tails rap gear, police, paramedic, nurse gear.

Making his way around back and down a narrow, red-bricked hallway, down from the bathrooms, Jake pushed the dressing room door open to see his best friends Embry and Paul pulling on black and yellow firefighter gear. The trousers hung around their black boots. The red suspenders gripped down on their shoulders, hiding their nipples but centring their abs into point of view.

"Hey guys," Jake slightly smiled, setting his bag down beside the floor to ceiling mirrors, lining one side of the room.

"Heyya Jake."

"Jake, what the hell?!" Paul snapped turning around. He had a stick of eyeliner in his hand. "You're leaving us dude?"

"You don't need that," Embry muttered, plucking the item from his fingertips, throwing it into the brittle dust coated cane makeup basket sitting on a small table beside the mirror.

"No," he breathed, unzipping his jacket. Allowing the clothing to drop from his shoulders, it revealed his lean, sculptured body. The only fault; the bits of bone that stuck out from under his skin—over his shoulders, hips and wrists—he was underweight from _her_ influence.

His russet skin seemed lighter in tone in the overly bright, blinding lights. "I broke up with Miranda. She's kicking me out." Dropping his jeans to the floor, it was evident he went around commando. Grabbing the only fireman's outfit left, he pulled the trousers on.

Paul's eyes widen in shock before the corners of his mouth turned up into a cocky grin. "About bloody time man!" He clasped Jake's shoulder. "Don't know how you stood the bitch." Getting a helmet and an axe from the cupboard, he placed the hat on and hung his wrists over the handle resting on his shoulders.

"Well done Jake," Embry smiled small.

"Thanks." Jacob forced a small smile cover his mouth. He really didn't feel like it was as good as the guys made it out to be. He knew he had to get away from her, but now, he felt low. Like there was no meaning in his life.

Letting the suspenders snap over his shoulders, the door flew open as Leah came striding through. Grabbing his helmet and hose on the reel, he ran after her.

"Leah, wait up, I need to talk to you." He was one of her few friends, one of the few she put up with hearing his problems and complaints, give him advice only to hear a few days later, he hadn't used it. Leah didn't put up with any crap and with how 'beautiful' she was. Every guy she had danced for knew better, especially those she stripped in front of. Her one rule: no touchy.

She was native, like Jake. Her hair was waist length, jet black and straight. Her skin a lighter shade of russet compared to Jacob's. Constantly, she held her firm filled mouth pursed over her narrow oval face. Her hair was usually tied up in a pony-tail, but not at work.

"What is it Jacob?" she sighed, snapping. Reaching over the girl's mirror for a paramedic's suit, she groaned. "Ugh, where's that bag?!"

"I was wondering … will you be my '_friend with benefits?'_"

Her movements paused, sliding down from the tips of her toes to the balls of her feet, turning her head towards him. "What did you just say?"

"Will you be my friend with benefits? I found someone and I know you're supposed to have more than one."

"You also know that it's not supposed to be with co-workers. Jake," she paused, loudly exhaling; her head went from side to side. "Why don't you just say 'fuck buds?' I'm not going to be your rebound girl."

"Because that's what Miranda would say … I'm not like her," he whispered, unsure if _she_ was within hearing distance. "I know. I don't expect you to." Easily, he reached over the mirror and pulled down the paramedic suit and bag.

"Thanks." Quickly, stripping down to her black bra and underwear, she pulled out a golden bra, slipping its straps over her shoulders. Jake clipped the back together as she changed her panties too. Pulling on the suit, the top was tied into a bow below her breasts, bringing them up, looking perky and sexy under the too small bra. She left the shirt unbuttoned in a V displaying her flesh.

Silently, Jake mentally groaned—he knew better than to let Leah hear his growing passion, unless he wanted a hit over the head or a knee to the balls. Like changing in front of a mirror hadn't been enough… Paul and Embry hooted from where they stood further down the room. She tempted at ignoring them.

"Fine, I'll do it. But remember I have a kid to care for Jake. I'm not going to be at your beg-and-call—I can't be—as it is I have Sam looking after Jesse, and I'm not going to be like Miranda. No bdsm. No s&m. It's straight vanilla." From the bag, she pulled a surgical mask and slipped it on over her mouth. Blue gloves covered her hands.

"Thanks."

"Whatever, we're on." The second she had finished speaking, her phone rang out its alarm—it was show time. In front of the boy's mirror, Jake grabbed his bag and took out the masquerade mask. Tying it on, he winced at the memory of why he had begun wearing the thing, stopping the flashback before it started.

He thought over how he had started as a waiter at the place when he was fourteen. From then on, she prepared him for work when he was older, dancing, using the pole and stripping off. Soon as he was eighteen, he began the real job. That was when the club really peaked in business.

"I don't know Jess, he seems … different." On her way inside, Bella passed a bulky bouncer filtered out the underages and trouble makers.

"That's what you said about Derek, now look what's going on. That guy is a creep and your own cop father can't do anything until he does something! Just be careful Bella, that's all I'm saying."

"I meant, innocent, different, Jess. But … he wasn't…"

Blinking, Jessica shifted her green-eye gaze to Bella's. "You didn't…?"

With her head down, dragging her teeth over her lower lip was the only hint Jess needed. "You did! Oh my god, my girl is growing up! You're first one night stand!" she gushed. "How was he? How big? Dish girl!"

"Jess, stop…" Her cheeks highlighted red against her pale skin. Bella's arms wrapped around her short and thin black sequined dress. Shuddering, she glanced back over her shoulder as a guy with many piercings passed by.

"Oh just tell me his size!"

"I don't know … nine … ten, I don't have a measuring tape on my arm like you."

Over the loud chattering of ladies and a few men, abruptly the sound of Rihanna's, Rude Boy bleared through the speakers. Blue lights glowed over the stage, reflecting in Jessica's red sequin dress. Imitation smoke clouded the deep blue stage floor lights. As the background shutters pulled back, a tall native woman with a paramedic's suit strutted out onto the extended stage, going straight to the pole, where she gripped up onto the pole. Men reached up and stuffed notes into her bra.

Suspiciously, Bella raised a brow at Jessica taking a chair beside her. "Why'd you bring me here?"

"To get your mind off your male _problems_," She used quotation marks around problems. "You're lucky you have male issues. I can't even get one!"

Captured by the woman's flexibility and steady grip upon the pole, Bella thought of how if she even tempted at gripping the pole she'd fall and break her neck. "So … you're trying to turn me lesbian instead?"

Jessica's eyes rolled. "They have unisex performances Bella—the best to last. You're so getting a lap dance from Masquerade!" she giggled, fanning herself with her matching red clutch.

"Don't you dare Jessica Stanley! Have one if you want one but count me out!"

"Oh loosen up Bella."

Only the men were hooting and hollering, until the real sexy came out on stage. The screams of excitement were deafening. Jessica and Bella's eyes almost popped at the sexy firemen on stage, one had an axe over his shoulders, the other in the centre of the three, a hose between his legs, along with an un-matching masquerade mask. The last on the end had an oxygen tank in hand.

He stepped forward, down to the end of the stage, where the dark haired woman twisted her leg around the pole. Coyly, his arm rested on her shoulders, pressing the back of his frame against the rod of steel. Moving from her position, Leah moved to his side and pressed her body against his own, rubbing against him, teasingly slow. Producing a mic from the front pocket of his trousers, a dark grin lifted the corners of Embry's mouth.

"Anyone need some oxygen?" He offered, lifting the tank. He glanced back to the one in the mask. "Or … how about a hose?"

The room had suddenly felt rather stuffy to Bella. Her face was hot, completely flushed as she stared at the one in the middle, holding the hose between his legs, the mask clinging to his face. He _had_ to be masquerade.

That stomach… centred by the red suspenders over his shoulders, picking up the russet hue over the skin of his abs and pecks, so defined, curved! _If only his trousers were a little lower_, she thought, biting down on her index finger. He was flexing his hips over the hose at a painfully fast rate, but somehow, he seemed out of place, for the star.

From her seat, Jessica rose, waving her hand in the air, shouting out, "I'll take some air!" Blinking, astonished, Bella watched her friend run to the stage before he offered her his hand. All too willingly Jessica took the invite. He whispered into her ear before she loaded his pants with cash. Before long, Jessica replaced the paramedical woman's position against the pole. The next minute, she was hauled onto his shoulders being assaulted by his mouth, much to her pleasure, gripping and twisting her fingers his short black hair. Bella's eyes rolled, appalled to be Jess's friend within that moment. She didn't find that guy attractive.

Suddenly the paramedic was catching all the attention, standing behind the guy her hands were on his stomach, running up and down his almost-there abs and gripped his pecks.

"Think it's a little warm in here for this, don't you ladies?" The whole crowd screamed in encouragement, his hips swinging back and forth over the axe as his helmet went flying into the crowd, much to their disappointment. Someone set the black helmet on the stage where people were piling the money in.

"Not enough huh," She questioned the crowd. "How about this then?" Taking the axe, she flung the blade against the back of the suspenders. One side fell relieving the V of his hips. The screams heightened!

Cash was over mounting the helmet's brims as Paul dropped the other side, relieving a tiny black thong. Stepping proudly up to the side of the stage, Paul stuffed his thong and its strings full of cash. Placing the hat back on his head, getting down to his knees, he pumped his hips to the crowd, where the women were crowding in running their hands all over him.

Bella hadn't been quiet prepared for that, nor to see Jessica back so soon. Sitting down beside her, she exclaimed her friend. The strap of her skimpy dress was dropped to the side. Her normally neat, not-a-strand-out-of-place hair was a bushed, classic bedhead style, and there was a mark on the side of her neck.

"Have fun?" Bella muttered.

"Oh yeah," Jess laughed, producing a note of paper from inside her bra. Waving it in front of Bella, she grinned. "He _really_ liked me."


End file.
